Creating a Storm

As the Prodigals stop for the first night on the way to Perdido Kefka walks up to Zoe after dinner.

"Hey Zoe! How would you feel about a walk around the Umbra tonight? I have a spirit I would like to talk to. Not just any spirit, mind you. One named Barthos, he's a Stormcrow. I was talking to one of my ancestors and she mentioned I should learn from him since he has helped her out before... Can you do that? Summon specific spirits you ain't met before? If not I suppose any ole stormcrow spirit will do. Whatever you feel up to. I know we have been asking a lot of you recently."

Zoe finishes off a piece of salted pork that she had not received from Father Ramone and stands up. She stretches her neck and shrugs her shoulders.

"I can always try. Can't always guarantee you'll like the results, though I have yet to summon a spirit who has tried to kill one of us. Wait...there was that one spirit that Zas got the tendrils from who stuck my head down its throat while it held me captive in those same ghostly tendrils. That was almost like being attacked."

Zoe shrugs again. "Okay, so, no guarantee you won't receive bodily harm from this spirit either."

Focusing on her beloved pocket watch, Zoe escorts Mocks the Night into the Penumbra. Though a fair distance from San Antonio, thanks to Zas Bul's gift, the spiritual landscape is still quite barren. There are a few stray Wyld spirits about, but the level of umbral activity is well below normal.

Zoe closes her eyes as she tilts her chin up toward Luna. Her lips form words that mean nothing to Kefka. They flow from her almost like a mother's lullaby, soothing her packmate ever so slightly in the pale moonlight. Her chanting quickens in speed and intensity accompanied by grand hand gestures when all of a sudden the Theurge freezes in place, hands and face still raised to Luna. She slowly lowers both and gives her packmate an amiable smile.

"It is done, my brother. Now we wait and hope old Stormcrow is as eager to meet you as you are to meet him."

Within moments of Zoe following her chant, a wild, high cry broke the stillness of the penumbral night. A large black bird circled once overhead, before alighting before the Garou, fixing them with a beady eye. Kefka and Zoe saw that the spirit creature's unkempt feathers buzzed and crackled with static. "What does the son of Great Thunder require?" Its voice was a loud, harsh cackle.

Kefka grins and gives a bow to the spirit.

"Greetings Barthos, I am Mocks the Night descendant of Thalia Witchblade.
We have called you here so that I may ask you for aide. There are 2 gifts which I should like to learn from you. They are Rains of Mercy, and Clap of Thunder. For payment I can offer Gnossis or if you have something else in my mind I am sure I will be up to the task."

Kefka has a sly grin on his face while waiting for the Stormcrow spirit to make his decision.

For the briefest of moments, the stormcrow's eyes shone like lightning in the night. "Thalia Witchblade? This name is known to me, but how do I know your words are true?" The bird spirit shrieked, its mood alternating between agitation, patronization, and subservience. "Indeed, how do you know I am Borthos? Prove your power to me, Fostern, and I may yet do as you ask."

Kefka's grin grows as his eyes close. His head drops down and begins to bob rhythmically. His arms hang by his side his hands repeatedly flexing and releasing. After a few moments he grows as still as the darkness on a moonless night. His head snaps up with his eyes a piercing blue. His stance strong and firm, his presence commanding and demanding. It is painfully obvious that Kefka is no longer in control.

"Barthos, still as distrustful as always I see. Mocks the Night knows of you because I told him about you. You taught me those gifts and many more. I'll be honest, though this one is not much to look at, greatness is in him. I have seen it, and am going to help him become mighty, a true son of Gaia. I was hoping you would lend your services as well. If you still have your doubts I do not blame you... have him earn your trust and gifts as I did. No mercy will be asked or given."

With that the presence leaves. Kefka's slippery posture returning. He pops his neck as he looks at Barthos, eyes full of determination.

"I believe that explains how I know you. Now give me a task and I will prove my power."

At the appearance of Kefka's ancestor spirit, the stormcrow made a circumspect bow, and when the Shadow Lord demanded his task, Barthos stood. Now his black plumage was highly charged, arcs of electricity occasionally leaping across his body. "Though I will take your spirit-strength, I desire no task of you, Kefka Mocks-the-Night, for I serve the dynasty willingly. Know that not only your ancestors watch your doings- the Lord of the Darkened Skies, Grandfather Thunder himself, takes interest in your fate. With his blessing, I will teach you the secrets of rain, and how to wield the tremorous might of the air."

The spirit smelled of ozone and carrion, and it seemed to grow in stature as it spoke, its eyes eerie dark pits one moment and flickering blasts of electricity the next. "All I ask in return is that you show strength and guile in the coming weeks, and that you not fail Father Thunder. He may yet have a task for you, if you prove worthy."

Kefka nods in thanks as he grasps at his chest pulling free a glistening orb of gnossis in each hand. He tosses them the air where they are immediately plucked by Barthos.

"It is an honor to have the eyes of Grandfather Thunder upon me. I relish the chance to push my limits and prove my worth to him. It was also a pleasure meeting you Barthos, I do you you might be willing to help again in the future."